


More than plain interest

by Callisto_Orthosie



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, johnlock - Fandom
Genre: Eventual Smut, Implied Smut, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Massage, enjoy, smut in following chapters probably, the first fic I'm posting here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-08-11 09:42:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7886191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Callisto_Orthosie/pseuds/Callisto_Orthosie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Oh yes, right there", Sherlock moaned, eyes closed as he wreathed himself in the delightful pain.<br/>-It's not exactly  what you think it is</p>
            </blockquote>





	More than plain interest

"Oh yes, right there", Sherlock moaned, eyes closed as he wreathed himself in the delightful pain.  
Fixing Watson with his eyes, he managed to bring out his voice. "Now I know why all the women fancy you", he gasped. 

Watson sighed, rolling his eyes as he proceeded to knead his friends skin like dough. His shoulders were stiff, his whole back clamped. He could feel the tight knots under the other mans' skin, and gently massaged the skin above, knead them until his colleague groaned in pain and cherishingly caressed his skin until he, at last, relaxed into his touch, sighing.  
All this pain was already part of Sherlocks' fit seeming body, it was engraved in his skin as some worries were into his soul. 

Somehow, Watson couldn't help himself but like it, the fact that he was able to make him relax, that he was allowed to touch his bare back, to massage him. Sherlock must have to trust him plenty to let him do that, as he didn't ever let anyone else do it.

"They fancy me because I massage?", he caught up to the flow of the conversation, slightly grunting at the thought. Sherlock tilted his head around again, to look at his best friend. It was a seemingly uncomfortable gesture, as he was lying on his abdomen. 

"If you are this good with your hand at my shoulders, then you are this good with your hands at other pleasing places, thus, yes, your talent at massaging is really what would make you a good partie"  
John looked at Sherlock for a moment, unbelieving and almost shocked. But just almost, Sherlock couldn't shock him anymore. 

"Deduction, huh?", he mumbled, continuing to knead the soft skin of his friends' lower back while he felt Sherlock press against his hand, even if just a little bit. It was like he was saying 'continue'. Somehow, his childish friend made him think of a cat.  
"Yes, it is", Sherlock answered, relaxing back into his hands even more. Inside Watsons imagination, his friend was purring. "Though, it is more of an induction than a deduction, I'd have to say, as I'm experiencing your talent right here"

Of course. He wasn't going to let Watson be right, even if only a little. It was too important to have the last word. "Relax for once, and don't try to think. It's like that that we 'normal people' are getting our muscles to untighten", he said, concentrating on his task once again. Only until Sherlock rolled over though, now facing him directly while lying on the sofa.

Licking over his lips, his friend asked: "So your muscles are untightened, I suppose?"  
Watson tried to ignore it, tried to ignore his calculating gaze and concentrate on his work again. Only that he couldn't do his work now, unless he was to massage Sherlocks' chest. Which wasn't an all too good idea at the moment, as he decided. 

"Should I massage you too?" his friend mused, and he knew that this time, there was only real naivety and the desire to help in his voice. For once, Sherlock really wanted to help others. That was something.  
"Well, if you want..", he answered, and shuffeled a bit to the side, turning around. He wouldn't undress, that's for sure, but to let some of the pent up stress leave his body would certainly do a thing for him.

Sherlock was pleased that Watson actually let him do like he wanted. He bit his lip as he slowly stroked the shoulders of the smaller man, noticing quite some tension in between his blades. Watson tried to let his mind wander off, tried to distract himself from the supple, warm feeling from the hands on his shoulders. Gentle, warm...He slowly began to doze off into the world that the touch of the long, slender fingers created, a world that did so well at relaxing him as- as the hands started to squeeze all the light out of his soul. 

"Wait", he almost scoffed, at the slight pain he felt wringing through his flesh. "Sherlock, what are you doing?!"  
His friend looked at him, surprised. "But that's what you have been doing all the ti-"  
"Yeah, that might be right, but I used less pressure. I mean-", Watson stopped, hesitated for a moment. "Just do what you just did to me. That felt really good...You did really good"

At that, Sherlock had to smile, just a little, so that faint smile let his face seem so less distant from everything, like he normally always seemed like. As his dark voice rang through Johns ears, resonating and calming, John didn't even have to turn around to know that the other one was smiling. "I'm really happy that you enjoy it"

Watson felt his eyelids flatter. He really did enjoy it. His dark voice, the long piano fingers on his shoulders...  
He was not gay, he told himself. When he was with Sherlock, he had to tell himself that a couple of times, but that was alright. He remembered it after all.  
His own hands were trained for women. That idea made him sad, for just a moment. 

He was like a painting, a traditional, pretty landscape painting, in which Sherlock had found its way in, intruding the picture with smeared, pretty colors of his own. The image didn't match anymore, even though Sherlock was sure to be the most colorful thing in it. He took pride in that. The landscape his mind, and Sherlock the one that was in some kind of way changing it, barging his way into his friends' thoughts whenever the possibility came across Watsons' mind.

The long piano fingers danced on his skin, embedding the memory of their touch into his flesh and his thoughts. He finally closed his eyes.  
Sherlock.

**Author's Note:**

> Aand, hope you enjoyed it!  
> Let me know if there were any mistakes I made (grammar and such), this would be very helpful!  
> It wasn't eexactly what it looked like in the beginning, eh?~  
> I'm happy for any comment that I get, thanks for reading!  
> It may have advanced a bit quick in this chapter, but I hope you still liked it <3  
> Bye, seeya laters  
> Nicole


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